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did not wish to be stumbling about naked or seeking for something to wear. Fatigue made her clumsy, and she bumped against a stool. |
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Almost on the instant, Ian's hand pulled back the bedcurtain. He relaxed as soon as his eyes fell on Alinor, but as she moved toward him he saw the pallet and blankets on the floor. |
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"Are you hungry?" Alinor asked. "I have food" |
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He did not answer that, but asked sharply, "Do you not share my bed any longer?" |
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"Of course," Alinor soothed, "but you are cut about and bruised. I did not wish to hurt you. Will you eat, Ian?" |
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A slow smile, part mischievous, part sensuous, touched his lips. "Later, perhaps. Take that off." |
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"For heaven's sake, Ian," Alinor protested reasonably, "I am tired to death, and you have done enough this day also. Eat if you will, and go back to sleep." |
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He froze, then turned his head away. "Thank you, but I do not wish to eat." |
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Obviously, this was no time for reason. Alinor caught her husband's averted face and turned it toward her. "I was not refusing you, my love," she said softly. "At least, if I was, it was for your sake, not of my own will." |
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She could turn his head, but his eyes looked away past her into some unpleasant distance. He was so sore from her previous rejections that no words would soothe him. Alinor bent lower and put her lips to his. For a little while he lay quiet, accepting the caress passively, then raised an arm to encircle Alinor. Oddly, both passion and nervousness swept her together. She knew she would have no trouble responding to Ian tonight, but if her orgasm terminated in tears again, she would undo all the good her burst of temper had accomplished. Perhaps if the pattern of their lovemaking were different, that dreadful, senseless grief would not |
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